


Tactically Vulnerable

by tofuchu



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, post 1x17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:08:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1465468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofuchu/pseuds/tofuchu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what he tells himself, and he’s grown so accustomed to believing his own lies that it almost sounds like the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tactically Vulnerable

His hands are starting to feel numb. Her face is too passive, too concerned. It isn't right. The more she thinks about it, the less likely it is that she will say yes.

"Please," Ward says, imploring. His voice is so raw it makes him flinch. "We have to. Now, or we never will. There's nothing left to stay for."

"There's Coulson," she points out, but her tone doesn't imply finality. She still hasn't decided. "There's Simmons, and Fitz, and May,"

"How long do you think they're going to stay?" He asks, and it affects her, he can see. "Skye, there's no S.H.I.E.L.D. There's just chaos, and if you stay you'll be killed. For nothing. For an idea. You'll die protecting something that doesn't exist anymore. I can't-" he flinches again "That can't happen. Please. Just come with me."

"They'll find us."

"They won't. I have caches hidden in countries all over the world, undocumented. Not on any database, no one knows. We'll be safe." He tries to make his voice warmer. It's hard. "Name a place, Skye. Any place you can think of, and we can be there tomorrow. Just you and me." Grant hopes she can’t distinguish the desperation in his voice, it’s impossible to hide. He will run himself through with a white-hot broadsword if that will make her say yes. Everything depends on it. She has to. She will.

Skye turns just the slightest bit away as her expression melts. There's a curtain of hair between them, but he can see the binary blinking in her head. She's considering it, she’s just taking too long.

The pause is going on forever but her eyes dart back to him. She bites her lip, thoughtfully asking, "Anywhere?"

"Anywhere," Ward says, hope suddenly igniting in his chest.

"Just you and me?"

"Just you and me." _Say it. Fucking say it say it **say it.**_

There's another pause (too long, _too long_ ), but eventually she breaks out into a smile. It's pensive, but the spark of mischief that sets him afire is plainly there. She nods.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." Her smile grows a bit wider, but it's cut off when he grabs her face in his hands and kisses her. It's rough and carnal, but it's brief. They need to leave. They have a schedule to keep.

"I'll get everything ready," he says, more rawness in his voice. His smile doesn't look forced. "How long do you need to pack?"

Skye shrugs. "I really just need my computer."

He nods. "Good. Good. Meet me at the bay in five."

She does.

&

His heart is pounding in his neck as the car races through a side street in Rio de Janeiro. He tells her he knows of a bar on the beach where they can get that drink, which makes her smile. Her presence next to him is helping calm the fervor in his blood. He needs to keep calm. If he breaks then it all breaks.

"So what did you say in the note?" He asks, startling her. She hadn't told him about it, but he guessed when she had arrived at the bay with a tiny ink stain on her lip. Skye chews her pens.

She doesn’t look abashed, just shrugs. "That I was sorry, mostly. And I told him what you said. That we could die for something that doesn't even exist. That we can do good in all kinds of other ways. I was never really cut out to be an agent, anyway." Her voice feels hard and thin and flimsy, so Ward grabs her hand. Warmth. Contact.

"You would have been the best," he says, because that's what she wants to hear, "it just wasn't meant to be." It makes her smile.

"Some things just aren't."                  

"And some things are."

&

Their hotel has an overlarge window with a beautiful view. It's a stunning tactical inconvenience.

When Skye tosses her bag on the bed she lunges after it, her small frame bouncing as she settles into the mattress. A smile disarms him briefly and he tries to steel himself. It's difficult.

"What are you staring at?" She asks with her voice alight, helium and stars.

Ward shrugs. "Just some crazy person."

Skye laughs. "Jerk."

He licks his lips as he throws his bag on the couch and sighs. He still feels heavy, even as he removes his jacket and spreads out next to her. She's staring at him, protruding, analyzing. He's never understood her ability to deconstruct a person; break them down into their most basic parts so she can see what makes them tick. She's done it to him before, plenty of times, but each time she misses a pretty big part.

They're silent for a while, and he’s about to open his mouth to say something stupid when she springs up like a lightning bolt and says "Towels."

Grant raises an eyebrow. "Towels?"

"Towels," she repeats, bounding off the bed towards the bathroom. "Every good hotel is measured by its towels. This place _looks_ nice, but there's only one way to really be sure. I need to see the towels."

He laughs under his breath as he watches her storm the shower. His heart rate is still elevated though, and he's agitated that he can't see her from this angle because he can't afford to let her out of his sight. Too much is riding on him keeping her here, keeping her alone. His mission isn't done yet.

"How are they?" he asks after she's been silent for too long. "The towels." The door is mostly closed, so her voice comes out muffled.

"Freaking amazing, is how the towels are," Skye says, and he imagines her smiling. "And the shampoo! Holy crap, Ward, this is _leave-in conditioner_. This place is fucking awesome."

Something is clamping down on his heart.

She’s in there for a long while before he gets up. He goes to his bag but doesn’t unpack; they won’t be here for very long. Nothing’s cemented yet, but he’s thinking about New Zealand next. One of those Lord of the Rings walking tours, she’ll love that. He can show her his favorite restaurant in Italy, take her to the top of the Monte Rosa. Little adventures, wherever whim takes them. Things he’s never allowed himself to hope for.

He’ll tell her eventually, Grant promises himself. Not tomorrow and definitely not today, but eventually he’ll come clean. One day, when all of this is a bad dream and he has no reason to lie to her anymore, she’ll know everything. This is what he tells himself, and he’s grown so accustomed to believing his own lies that it almost sounds like the truth.

The safety sounds like a cannon.

He’d like not to turn around. Maybe if he stands there and doesn’t move and doesn’t see, it won’t be real. He’d like to, but Agent Ward— of HYDRA or S.H.I.E.L.D. or what have you— cannot be tactically vulnerable.

But he is. He has been for a while now.

When he finally does turn around there’s a mass of unshed tears lining her eyes. Her stance is good, firm, and she’s not shaking. She’s got a kill shot lined up. He could still rush her, if he wanted, but he remains still and doesn’t take the chance. There’s a more than decent chance she’d be faster.

Grant swallows, but his voice is steady. “Coulson?”

“Three minutes out.” Her voice is slightly less than steady. He wants to reach out and touch her, but she’ll shoot him in the throat before he takes his second step, like he taught her to. “HYDRA?” She asks.

There’s no point. “Not coming.”

The scorn in her laugh shatters something in him. Something brittle, but it was there somewhere. “Please. You think I’m an idiot? You bring me out here so your little octopus buddies can strap me down; do tests or whatever the fuck it is you want from me—“

“That’s not true.”

“ _STOP IT!_ ” She roars. “ _Stop lying!_ You had the hard drive, all that information they had could only have come from you. People have died, Ward, because of you.” She is shaking. “Now,” she raises her gun a little higher. Head shot. “Tell me they’re not coming again. I dare you.”

"Skye," his voice is hoarse, "I'm telling the truth."

"How would I know?" She snarls, suddenly ice instead of fire, "I don't know what you telling the truth even looks like. Everything you've ever said to me since the second we met has been a lie. You’re made of lies. It’s all you are.” Everything is cold.

“I want to know why,” she continues, not bothering to acknowledge the tears now fleeing down her cheeks or how old and tired he looks. “Do that, Grant. Tell me why. Explain this to me, make me understand. Please.”

_Please._

“I was seventeen,” his voice is dry and stiff. Breakable. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t right, back then. Garrett gave me the chance to do something… _more_. He told me that I could make a difference. You have to believe me, Skye, I thought—“ he sees her chest tremble, the room is far too bright. He swallows a thick lump in his throat. “Garrett was the first person to ever think I was worth something. You of all people know what that’s like.”

Skye’s glare becomes animalistic, almost frightening. “ _Don’t. you. dare_. Coulson is _nothing_ like that sick sack of garbage you answer to.”

“ _But I didn’t know that_ ,” she needs to hear it, needs to know, even if she doesn’t understand now. She will, one day, she’ll understand. “And by the time I realized…” the room is spinning. If he kicks the ottoman he can sweep her legs and have her pinned before she even knows what’s happening. “I didn’t have any reason to get out. Not until you and I—“

“There is no _you and I_ ,” she whispers through wet lips, causing his stomach to drop into his knees. “Apparently there never was.” He'd never seen Skye so ready to pull the trigger before. He's almost proud.

“There still could be.” It’s a plea more than a statement. “I erased everything before I left. Took out all the tracers, all the bugs. The bus is dark. We’re dark. I’m _out_ , Skye. I swear, I’m out.”

Her lips are starting to tremble, he’s ready to retch. “You know that’s not what it’s about, Ward. You killed three agents. You killed Hand. Who I realize wasn’t the fuzziest person, but for Christ’s sake, she didn’t deserve to _die_.” Coulson and May are already on top of them by now.

There’s no time. He’d ditched his emergency signal at the airport and drove over it. He’s stranded, defenseless. But maybe this is how it’s supposed to end. Maybe this is meant to be.

“Whether you believe me or not,” he says quietly in the split second before what’s left of S.H.I.E.L.D. rains hell down upon them, “you were the one thing I never lied about.”

&

“Where are we going?”

“Wherever you like.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how happy with this I am, but hey, my first post on this site! Boom.


End file.
